Page 31 of Sight Unseen

“I get it, bud. You’ll always be my wingman.” I grinned at him. “Come on, let’s go see you kick some butt out there.” At least I’d hear the waves, smell the sea and the sweat and suntan lotion of the people around me—and I’d be rooting for Cody. I’d not be doing too much moving around at the beach, but I knew a lot of Cody’s surfer friends and I’d no doubt they’d help me if I needed anything.

Things didn’t quite go the way either of us planned. Cody didn’t win but he came a respectable second, and the charity made close to five thousand dollars in tickets, raffles and sponsorships.

In the leisure surfing after the main event, one of the surfers disappeared. The scramble to find him, get him out of the water and into an ambulance took most of the night. The surfer had been hit on the head by his board and it’d resulted in all hands-on deck. I’d been left pretty much on my own, wondering what the hell was going on.

An exhausted Cody finally drove me home later that night after all the fuss and got me safely into the house with the promise of coming by in the morning to bring me breakfast. I was glad to tumble into bed, head pounding from too much sun and noise, and I slipped into the hazy solace of sleep.

Chapter 6

Cody

At eleven a.m. I let myself into Nate’s house, fully expecting him to find him awake, up and about. It was a beautiful Sunday morning and I didn’t have to go into work. I loved owning my own business and being able to leave it in the capable hands of Rachel when I needed time out. But with wanting to be with Nate more, I suffered guilt that I did it too much. Rachel had told me not to be stupid, she was happy to be the go-to girl. It still did nothing to assuage my fear I had been letting her down.

I’d spent a sleepless night alternating between two emotions: best-friend angst that Nate had been dumped, and best-friend-in-love-with-his-best-friend elation that Nate was single again. It had been an off-the-tracks roller coaster ride and my brain had been grinding in overtime.

Of course, the latter situation meant shit. I didn’t think Nate and I would be pursuing any relationship or doing the nasty anytime soon even if he was single. Nate simply didn’t seem to want me that way.

He hadn’t spoken to me yet about Jon’s reasons for leaving but in my uncharitable moments, I could guess. The bastard had always been needy and vain, so having a blind lover certainly wasn’t top of his me-me-me happy-ever-after list of life accomplishments.

So, burdened with my mental tennis match, I wasn’t feeling the usual Cody optimism when I put down the breakfast I’d bought—double bacon, egg, sausage and hot sauce all packed into a large pretzel. My favorite.

The house was oddly quiet, which was worrying. Nate was nowhere to be seen. There was only a strange, rhythmic sound emanating from down the hall—Nate’s bedroom.

I frowned at the noise and started toward his bedroom door. A sudden sense of fear that he’d fallen and hurt himself, perhaps slipped in the shower, made my skin tingle and my step quicken.

I knew I should call out, warn him I’d entered in the house, but I was scared if I did, I’d startle him and make things worse. He could be shaving and I’d hate for him to cut himself. So, taking the middle ground, I said nothing and gently pushed open his bedroom door, fully expecting him to grin and tell me he was Daredevil and he’d known I’d been there all along.

The sight that greeted me was one I’ll remember as long as I live. Nate lay on the bed legs spread wide, knees up, feet planted over the covers. His lithe, sun-kissed body glistened with sweat as he grasped his cock and jacked himself off. He had his earbuds in, and his eyes were half closed, lips parted, and the look on his face…

I nearly came there and then. I’d seen that look before twelve years ago when he’d lain beneath me as I’d thrust inside him. The memory made me feel faint and I pressed a fist into my mouth, stifling my groan of nostalgia and lust.

I should have turned and closed the door behind me. A better man would have left him to his pleasure and not stayed to watch the man he loved come to climax. I wasn’t that better man and I’d challenge anyone that saw his fantasy playing out before him to turn and walk away.

So I stood and watched the scene play out.

Nate’s strong fingers wound around his cock, slick with lube and his own semen, as he pleasured himself. The knowledge I’d once been granted entrance into the more private part of him, a part I could see now, nestled between taut ass cheeks that clenched as he moved—that memory was bittersweet.

The writhing man on the bed, the pervading smell of musk and sex, the faint tease of Nate’s scent invading my nostrils, the erotic tableau before me was worthy of a classic film noir. Nate’s breathless gasps and murmurs of satisfaction added to the scene, one of the most seductive I’d ever experienced.

Nate’s moans grew in crescendo and I pressed my palm against my hardened cock, knowing I’d not be able to take much of this before I came in my pants. I turned to leave, hoping to make it to the guest bathroom down the hall, because even to me, orgasming here seemed a step too far.

But something happened that spun my world off its axis, and rocked my sanity.

Nate called my name as he came. My name uttered in a throaty cadence of sheer need and pleasure. His body twisted and jerked on the bed as he coated himself and the bed with streams of pearly come then his agonized pants slowly reduced to soft moans.

Chest heaving, I barely made it to the spare bathroom before ripping down my jeans and fisting myself hard, twice, facing the shower door. To be fair, I didn’t even think I needed that second yank. I came fiercely, my balls tightening, my spunk hitting the glass with a spatter of white streams that slid slowly down. I bit my lip to stop the shout that built in my throat and buried my face in a towel to muffle any other sounds of pleasure.

Then, legs boneless and wobbly, I sank down onto the bathroom floor and wrapped my arms around my knees.

What the hell had just happened?

I didn’t have much time. If I didn’t want to be found pants down with come soaking my lower body and streaming down the glass, I needed to clean up quick and get into the kitchen before Nate knew I was there. Knowing him, he’d probably shower first so that gave me a little time.

I wiped off, frantically pulled up my jeans then used toilet paper and water to wipe the sticky come traces off the glass. Satisfied with the clean-up, I opened the bathroom door and peered outside. Guilt and shame washed over me, as if by becoming an unexpected voyeur, I’d tainted something Nate held intimate. I comforted myself with the fact that in some way I’d been present in Nate’s fantasy and that gave me some sort of right to be here. That was my rationalization anyway.

As I slipped quietly into the kitchen and picked up the now cooling breakfast treat, I wondered with some smugness what the hell I’d done in his daydream to make him come so forcefully and with such abandon.

I heard the shower turn off and heaved a sigh of relief as I re-traced my steps, slammed the front door and put the breakfast down on the counter and called out cheerfully. “Nate? I’m here with breakfast. Are you decent?”